Star Reaver: Swordwind Rising
by Brother Andyn
Summary: This is my Warhammer 40,000 story, which I will add to every now and again. All reviews are greatly appreciated!
1. Xenos

Chapter 1: Xenos

The soft clunk of the marines' boots echoed on the steel mesh floor. The harsh beams of their suit lights struck the eerie darkness, illuminating smears of blood and filth on the corridor walls. The near-silence was terrifying: normally the complex would hum with the sounds of machinery, the tap of keyboards and the buzz of humanity busying itself with archaeological research. That was all gone, leaving a dead husk supposedly infested with the silent shadows of mankind's nemesis. Somewhere, water dripped, probably from a severed supply pipe. Fluorescent, alien goo squelched underfoot and partially decayed bodies cluttered the doorways of adjoining passages.

What the hell happened here, Brother Dene thought. He glanced about at all the carnage. Clearly something had taken a severe dislike to Scylla IV Research Station. Rumours abounded that the team of scientists had awoken a nest of serpents and that the entire base had been compromised. The evidence definitely supported that theory. Dene stepped over a rotting human arm and gritted his teeth.

'Looks like these…aliens don't like being disturbed.'

'On the contrary,' Brother-Sergeant Bilius muttered over the vox-caster, 'I think the bastards were waiting for this to happen. Hell, if I were locked underground for a thousand years…'

'So, are we talking Tyranids? Or a completely different species?' Brother Paulos hefted his heavy plasma gun.

'By the look of that blood, I'd say it was the spawn of the Hive Mind,' Bilius spat. 'Be wary, brothers.'

'The Emperor watches over us,' Paulos replied.

'The might of the Crimson Fists will purge the xenos!'

Bilius approached the room at the end of the corridor.

The doors had been wrenched off their hinges and lay in metal shards on the floor. All manner of debris and wreckage was scattered around the room, from smashed data slates to battered and scarred computer monitors. Wires and cords tangled across the broken remnants of the furniture, intermingled with shattered lab equipment. The stench of death hung heavily in the dank air.

Brother-Sergeant Bilius led his ten-man squad through the room, the marines fanning out and sweeping the walls with their bolters. Dene glanced at the ceiling just before a glob of purple goo descended near his boot. He froze, realization gripping his heart with a claw of ice.

'Brothers…it's still here.'

Suddenly, a dark form dropped from the airshaft and started flaying about in the marines' midst. Razor sharp talons bit through power armour like a knife through paper and two marines went down, blood pumping from where their heads had been moments before. Bilius' commands were drowned out by the chatter of boltgun fire. A massive tail, or that's what Dene thought it was, swung out of the confusion and sent him flying through the air. He crashed into the wall and fell. As Bilius and the other marines fought for their lives, Dene struggled to rise. Something had cushioned his fall and as he turned to look, a human skull leered at him from the pile of mouldering rags and bones. Fumbling around, he discovered the corpse's ID badge and ripped it off for identification. But that only mattered if they got out of here alive. Of course they would. The Emperor willed it.

Alien blood was spraying everywhere and already three more marines were down, their bodies sliced by chitinous claws in a variety of grisly ways. With an inhuman shriek and a flurry of black, slimy appendages the creature fled back up into the airshaft and vanished. Dene breathed a prayer to the God-Emperor and slammed a new clip into his bolter.

'Die you slimy bastard!' Rounds of ammunition bit into the ceiling as the holy weapon spoke, chewing into the Tyranid above. There came a series of deathly screeches as the bolts tore into its hide and exploded, literally tearing the beast's innards apart. Shrapnel sprayed downwards.

'Ease up, brother!' Bilius grasped Dene by the shoulder. 'It's dead already!'

'Is it? Better get up there and take a look,' Dene panted, his bolter smoking with exertion.

Paulos put aside his plasma gun and dragged a bench across. Clambering up, he pulled out his bolt pistol and shone its small light about. Alien ichor dripped from the top of the airshaft.

'It's dead all right.' He looked down the shaft, which faded off into inky blackness. 'I reckon we can use this shaft to reach…'

'To hell with that!' Bilius was getting edgy. 'Time to pull out.'

'Brother-Sergeant, we are space marines, we do not pull out,' Dene stated. 'Our primary objective is to…'

'Is to investigate and destroy any threat. That son of a whore took out five of my marines! I say we come back with reinforcements and purge this hellhole.'

'I agree with Bilius,' Paulos growled. He got down and picked up his weapon. 'When it comes to the Tyranids, it should be Exterminatus.'

'Emperor's Light, do you read me?' Bilius raised the Thunderhawk pilot on the vox-caster. 'Emperor's Light, this is Brother-Sergeant Bilius, of Squad Brutus. Do you read me?'

'Confirmed, Brother-Sergeant,' the reply crackled with static. 'Standing by.'

'We have a code red Hormagaunt infestation. We're heading back to give our report.'

'Acknowledged, Brother-Sergeant. Preparing docking sequence.'

As the five remaining space marines marched back the way they had come, their boots clunking on the steel mesh flooring, black eyes slid open in the darkness. Cat-like in their stealthiness, and silent as the most skilful predator, the three aliens unfolded their bodies from the shadows and followed their prey.


	2. Terror

Chapter 2: Terror

'These passages seem a lot more labyrinthine on the way back than when we came in,' complained Brother Eric as the marines made their way down another set of steel steps. 'Are you sure we're going the right way?'

'By the God-Emperor's holy blood,' Bilius cursed. 'Are you challenging my directions, brother?' His voice was thick with frustration as the squad continued on through the blackness.

'No, Brother-Sergeant. But it just seems like we're taking a lot longer than before.'

'Your worries are noted, Brother Eric.'

Silence reigned cold and bitter as the marines trudged on, navigating their way through the dank, shadow-choked corridors. Last in line was Brother Johnathan. Walking backwards, he trusted in his comrades to clear any debris that might obstruct his path. Eerie shadows jumped out at them from the ceiling and from behind rusting pipes and broken doorways.

'It almost seems like we're going deeper into the complex,' Eric grunted.

'I have to agree with Eric,' Paulos moaned. 'You are sure, Brother-Sergeant, that we are not lost?'

'Silence, battle-brothers.' Bilius held up a gauntleted hand. 'We may have company.'

They had reached a darkened intersection. Three other corridors split off into the gloom, each scattered with splintered glass and shards of plas-steel. The windows that ran all along the corridors were smashed, and there wasn't a single door left intact. Beyond the windows the marines could see rooms full of corpses, lit up by the sparking of live electricity leaping from severed wires. Not surprisingly, the ventilation shafts above were all open.

'I don't recognise this place,' Dene grumbled, his voice muffled from within his helmet. Bilius didn't reply. He lifted his bolter towards the left-hand corridor.

'Just the perfect place for an ambush.' The sergeant waved a hand. 'Back, back up the stairs. We stand a better chance in the narrow defile here.'

Following orders with quick reliability, the five marines retreated up the last set of stairs and formed a defensive formation. Then Bilius raised his bolter and fired.

The shot was ear-piercingly loud in the quiet corridors. The sound bounced off the walls and ricocheted back and forth. Nothing. No ambush, no Tyranids lying in wait around the corners. Nothing. Or maybe they hadn't moved.

Bilius stooped and picked up a shard of plas-steel. Weighing it in his hand, he tossed it down in the direction of the left-hand corridor. It crashed to the floor with a loud thud. Nothing happened. He repeated the action with another piece directed at the right-hand corridor. Still nothing.

'Well, looks like we're clear,' Bilius stated. 'I wouldn't mind having a flamer right now.'

'Or a couple of Terminator suits,' joked Dene.

'This is not the time for humour, brother,' Bilius reprimanded. 'Squad Bilius, move out. We'll take the left passage.'

The squad started spreading out as they descended the steps again.

A sudden chill ran up Eric's spine. Something was coming up the passage behind them. Johnathan knew it too and readied his bolter.

'Brother-Sergeant,' he said slowly. 'It…it's…'

His voice was cut off in a strangled gasp and an inhuman shriek tore through the silence.

'What the hell!' Bilius turned and tried to fight his way back up the stairs. But Dene, Paulos and Eric were in the way, their bulky power armour blocking his path. The boltgun of Brother Eric blazed, lighting up the passage and yelling like a mechanical woodpecker.

'What's going on, brother?' The sergeant tried to make himself heard above the din. Momentarily the gunfire died down and Eric cast about for what was left of his foe.

'It got away,' Eric snapped. He picked up a heavy, rounded object and started back in disgust.

'What is it, Eric?' Paulos said anxiously, hefting his own bolter. The other marines crowded closer.

Eric turned around and revealed the helmeted head of Brother Johnathan. Jagged claws had severed it clean off. The eyepieces had been smashed to expose his eyes. The look in them was one of pure terror.

His lifeless body lay uselessly on the floor, in a spreading crimson pool. There was no sign of the Hormagaunt.

'Damn the Tyranids!' Bilius was furious. 'Another good man lost to these vile spawn! By the God-Emperor, this place will be utterly destroyed.'

'That it will be,' agreed Paulos.

'Be on full alert brothers,' Bilius warned. 'Where before it wasn't necessary to kill all xenos as long as we acquired information, I now order all hostiles exterminated with extreme prejudice.'

'With pleasure, Brother-Sergeant,' Brother Eric spat.


	3. Death

Chapter 3: Death

'Squad Bilius, what is your status?' The vox crackled with static. 'Brother-Sergeant Bilius, do you read?'

'I read you, pilot. We are progressing down what I believe to be a north-east corridor.'

'By my count you should be back by now, Brother-Sergeant.'

'We ran into a Hormagaunt,' Bilius snarled, 'that was what probably slowed us down. We should be exiting any minute now. Stand by.'

'Acknowledged, Brother-Sergeant. Emperor's Light is standing by, readying for take off.'

Before the marines stood a huge, adamantium bulkhead. Edged in black and yellow lines, it was spattered with crimson and a massive hole had been ripped through it. Beyond, Bilius could see what might be a tiny flicker of light.

'This is it, brothers. Squad Bilius exiting the complex.'

The four remaining marines trooped through the opening, their suit lights illuminating a vast chamber. For a moment they all stood in awe, staring down at a gigantic basin, filled with a bubbling, whitish liquid. It was hundreds of feet in circumference; encircled by a mesh-floored balcony, suspended from the ceiling on metal poles and protected by railing. Several flickering wall lamps caused the liquid to glow.

'Apologies, Brother-Sergeant, this doesn't look like the exit zone.' Brother Eric turned to face his superior. He indicated the room with a wave of his bolter. 'There are no doors, except for…'

'This has to be the way out!' Bilius roared into the vox caster, producing a harsh clamour of sound, which stung the other marines' ears. He stepped out onto the delicate, metal walkway surrounding the basin, scanning for an exit. The dull clunk of his boots echoed around the chamber as he circumnavigated the pit.

'Squad Bilius, follow through.'

Immediately, the squad formed into single file and trailed after the sergeant: Eric, Paulos carrying the heavy plasma gun, and finally Dene, glancing nervously over his shoulder. The chamber's entrance looked ominously dark and shadowed. It looked like a maw, splinters of adamantium around the tear resembling teeth.

The marines were approaching the far side of the chamber when a slight noise threw Dene's senses into motion. He swung around, but saw…nothing.

'What is it, marine?' The sergeant turned and stared back down the line.

'Nothing, Brother-Sergeant, I thought I heard something.'

Although they couldn't see it, Bilius rolled his eyes. The newest member to his team, Dene was young but ambitious. He had earned his place in the Space Marines by slaying a great Barb Dragon, after slaughtering his own kin in battle. It was a similar story for the others: Paulos had made a grab for power when his brother warrior had died, and murdered his brother's son so that he alone inherited the leadership of the tribe; Eric was a battle-hardened veteran who, back on his home planet of Blackwater, had declared outright war on any and all who opposed his industrial building and anti-natural campaigns. Naturally, all of them had completed the Rite of the Dragon and been chosen by the gods to sail away to join the ranks of the most glorious warriors in the galaxy: the Space Marines.

Bilius, Paulos and Eric trudged further up the walkway, but Dene stayed put for a silent moment, raising his head and glancing left and right for any trace of movement. He heard the clunk of his brothers' boots fading off into the distance until no sounds remained except that of his own breathing. Just when he was about to give up, something glimmered at the corner of his vision. He turned to take in the full scope of whatever it was, raising his bolter. But it was gone. Or at least, he couldn't see it anymore.

Too late, a scything claw swept out from behind him, biting deep into his pauldron. The claw stuck fast, blood pumping from his shoulder. As his fist clenched in pain, squeezing the trigger of his boltgun, rounds of ammunition pumped uselessly into the wall.

'Brothers…' He tried to shout but another claw took his head off in a spray of blood. The vox-caster sputtered pointlessly as Brother Dene's corpse crashed to the mesh with a resounding thud.


	4. Respite

Chapter 4: Respite

'Brother Dene?' Bilius barked into the vox-caster. 'Brother Dene, respond!' When no reply came, the sergeant ordered his troops back along the path. The headless corpse was lying face down, blood pumping from its severed neck. The head lay several feet away.

'By the Emperor, another good brother lost,' Paulos growled. 'Those Hormagaunts must be around here still.'

'Agreed,' Bilius spat. 'Brothers, fan out and scan the walls. Be wary, the xenos scum is upon us.'

Bilius continued to the far side of the basin; Paulos stayed around the middle section and Eric headed back towards the entrance.

Minutes turned into an hour as the marines trudged back and forth, sweeping the darkened walls. Then Eric heard a faint clanking. It was coming up along the steel-mesh walkway, towards him.

'Brothers, I hear something. It's coming from the bulkhead we entered through.'

'Acknowledged, Brother Eric,' Bilius reported. 'Stay put brother; we're coming to aid. Prepare to purge the xenos!'

Eric gritted his teeth and planted his feet firmly on the ground. He braced himself and aimed his bolter, his finger curled around the trigger. The clanking grew louder and louder, gradually, as something walked up the walkway, it's pace slow and casual, almost arrogant in its nonchalance. Then, as he expected, the flickering lamplight illuminated the slimy, black form of a Tyranid Hormagaunt. It seemed to be grinning, its mouth revealing a long row of needle-like teeth. Black eyes burned with an alien coldness, and Eric could see the slime glistening on its dark, scaly hide. It stood on four, brutally taloned appendages, but it was the other two that attracted Eric's attention. They rose up above the beast like mantis claws, elongated and edged in serrated chitin. It was time to purge the xenos.

'The Emperor orders you to die!' Eric pulled the trigger and sent a burst of explosive bolts screaming towards the alien. With unbelievable speed, the creature dodged the missiles and sprang into a gallop. The next burst of shots tore into the beast as it closed on him, causing it to rear up in pain, alien blood spurting all over the walkway in great gouts. Shrieking tore the air.

'Take that Tyranid scum!' Eric was enjoying himself. He pumped round after round into the Hormagaunt, punctuating each blast with another warcry in the name of the Emperor. The corpse soon became little more than a pile of goo and chitin armour plates as it was blown into oblivion. Finally, Eric raised his smoking bolter.

'Hold your positions, brothers,' Eric shouted into the vox, 'area secure. Aid is no longer required.'

Suddenly a curved claw scythed down from behind him, impaling Eric's helmet like a melon. He struggled to speak but couldn't as his body was lifted up into the air. His limbs dangled, agony surging through his body until another chitin-bladed appendage sliced cleanly through his neck. The body collapsed to the steel-mesh with a crunch, and a victorious screech echoed around the chamber, the severed head still transfixed to the end of the Hormagaunt's talon. The marines' respite from killing one of their foes had been short lived.


	5. Destruction

Chapter 5: Destruction

'An eternal curse on the Tyranid race!' Bilius cursed as he and Paulos rushed towards the source of the braying scream. Their boots clunked heavily on the walkway, and was quickly added to the quick, rattling sound of numerous alien hooves.

'The Hormagaunts approach!' Paulos said gruffly. He ensured his heavy plasma gun was charged up. Together the space marines stopped and stood back-to-back, five feet apart, prepared to sell themselves against the xenos threat. Before long both remaining aliens materialized from the gloom. One approached towards Paulos; the other towards Bilius. Their chitinous hooves clinked on the mesh; their slick armour gleamed with a wet, black sheen. It was a hellish contrast against the dull blue armour of the Crimson Fists.

'In the name of the Imperium, die!' The sergeant pulled the trigger of his boltgun and released a hail of death. The beast attacking him had a slight variation to the hue of its companions. A dark green crest adorned its head, and its back seemed to swell with strange mutation. Predictably, the beast swerved to avoid the barrage. One bolt caught it in a glancing blow, knocking off a horny spike. Unperturbed, the creature came on, its jaws opened wide in a cry of anger. Bilius kept firing. One more bolt hit the Hormagaunt in the chest. A minor explosion ruptured its body, no doubt playing havoc with its insides. Fluorescent gore leaked from its shell, but it still had enough strength to hurl itself upon the sergeant. Scything claws came slashing down.

'I told you to die!' Bilius shrieked and raised his bolter in defence. The talons cut straight through the weapon, tearing the severed halves from the marine's grasp. Bilius pulled out his knife and with two precise blows he stabbed out the creature's eyes. Small fountains of blood spurted from the eye sockets, and the creature let out a screech of intense anguish. The sergeant ducked and shoved past as the claws hacked and stabbed, blindly slicing through the fence separating the walkway from the basin below. A section fell away, disappearing into the whitish liquid. There was a gush of bubbles as the metal was eaten away by some form of sulphurous acid.

Blood spilling down onto the walkway and through the mesh, the beast span around, seeking its prey. Bilius, breathing heavily, threw his knife. It rotated end over end before finding its mark in the creature's skull. With a final death scream, the Hormagaunt slumped, twitching in its final death throes.

'Well, that's one less Tyranid bastard to worry about.' Bilius strode forward to retrieve his knife from the Hormagaunt's bloodied head.

But as the space marine sergeant stooped, the slimy tail whipped out and caught Bilius on his pauldron. As the black appendage slammed into him with incredible force, the weight of his bulky power armour worked against him.

'No! No!' Bilius stammered, waving his arms and trying to catch hold of the fence. Thankfully, he regained his balance, just when he thought it was over. But then something wet, slimy and roughly the size of a human hand smashed into his breastplate.

'You ugly mother…' Bilius screamed as he was propelled backwards, out into mid-air.

Brother Paulos, oblivious to his superior officer's plight, fired his plasma gun. An intensely bright globe of energy flew from the muzzle of his weapon. Emitting a strange snarl, the Hormagaunt leapt high into the air, avoiding the blast.

'Damn you, alien scum!' Paulos urged his machine to recharge, knowing that he didn't have enough time for another shot. Hastily putting aside the weapon, he pulled out his bolt pistol but then the beast descended near on top of him. The handgun was knocked from his gauntlet and a huge claw stamped down solidly on the plasma gun. As Paulos threw up his arms and grabbed the Hormagaunt's fore-wrists, preventing its slashing talons ripping his throat out, he realised the heavy weapon was going to overload. That was not good.

'Get back you stupid…'

Suddenly the creature reeled, as if suffering some sort of fit. Its head rolled from side to side, and a quick glance revealed to Paulos that the other alien was dead. Taking advantage, he pushed past the Hormagaunt, leaving the plasma gun. In a few minutes the weapon would detonate, destroying the walkway and perhaps collapsing the whole room. He had to get out.

'Brother-Sergeant! We must retreat! Brother-Sergeant, do you read?'

Something was wrong. The sergeant was not responding. And yet he had killed the other Hormagaunt…as the second alien collapsed, seemingly exhausted, Paulos cursed again and ran back towards where he had last seen the sergeant.

'Brother Paulos!' A strangled cry, filled with pain. Paulos glanced down into the basin. Horrified, he saw Brother-Sergeant Bilius, sinking slowly, his armour dissolving as it ate into him.

'Brother-Sergeant Bilius! What…'

'It's too late, brother! Save yourself! Report back to Emperor's Light!' Bilius' speech was interrupted by a scream of pain as his legs went under.

'But Brother-Sergeant…' Paulos cast about for something to throw out to his sergeant – a rope, a pole, anything.

'Do as I say, brother! Do as I…for the Crim…Crimson…!' A hideous scream twisted Bilius' last words as his torso began to sink.

'Brother-Sergeant!' Paulos wrenched a piece of the fence free and thrust it down to his helpless superior. But it was too late. Bilius was screaming constantly and unable to move. His end had come.

'May the Emperor have mercy upon you, brother-sergeant.' Paulos turned away from the sight. With under a minute to escape, he gave the Hormagaunt corpse a good kick before sprinting away towards the bulkhead.

As he passed the discarded plasma gun, he didn't notice the absence of the second Hormagaunt.


	6. Termination

Chapter 6: Termination

As Brother Paulos dive-rolled through the bulkhead and pounded down the corridor, a colossal explosion tore through the complex. Looking back, he saw a bright orange flash before the doorway was blown apart by a wave of fire and destruction. For a moment he paused, half expecting a flaming Tyranid monster to burst through the hole, snarling and lashing in a last attempt to kill him. Nothing came through and soon the room beyond faded into a burning pit of heat, sparks and smoke. Breathing a sigh of relief, he turned and trudged away.

'Emperor's Light, do you read? Emperor's Light, this is Brother Paulos of Squad Bilius. There will be a delay in returning to the dock.'

'Acknowledged, brother. What is your situation?'

Paulos paused, grimacing before he responded.

'Brother-Sergeant Bilius has fallen. As have Brothers Eric, Dene and Johnathan. We also lost five brothers when we first encountered the Hormagaunts.'

There was silence from the vox-caster.

'Emperor's Light, respond.' Paulos snarled. 'Emperor's Light! Damn it pilot, respond immediately!'

There was no response.

'God-Emperor have mercy on us all,' Paulos spat with disgust.

Another half-hour passed as the lone space marine tramped through another series of winding, darkness-stifled passages. The only sound he could hear now was his own laboured breathing, slightly mechanical through the vox caster. Blackness was all around him, and his suit lights were only partially working. With no weapons, he felt vulnerable. And yet he knew, he told himself, that the last Hormagaunt had been caught in the explosion. It was dead, he constantly reminded himself, the alien scum had to be dead. Nothing left in that chamber could have survived the blast. But all the time, something in the back of his mind screamed a warning at him. Every shadow seemed to leap out, every corner hid a waiting predator, and a prowling beast patrolled every new passage. Surely there would be more than three Hormagaunts lurking in this forsaken place? He hoped there weren't. He was weaponless. Not defenceless, for a true Space Marine could still function as a fighting machine, but without his holy bolter his capabilities were limited.

'Holy God-Emperor of Mankind,' Paulos whispered as he strode along another walkway suspended above an abandoned hall, which looked suspiciously like a foyer. 'Show me the way forward, allow me to leave this ungodly place, and let me wreak vengeance upon those which have blasphemed against Squad Bilius and your divine might this day. I will not fail in my sacred duties; give me the opportunity and I will ensure that no foul xenos will get off this rock alive. Exterminatus will be ordered.'

And then, as if in answer to his prayers, there came a rush of wind. He could hear a slight creaking as a door up ahead swung back and forth on rusted hinges. It clanged periodically against the wall. The sound was pure heaven to Brother Paulos.

'By the God-Emperor's holy fist,' Paulos breathed. 'Emperor's Light, do you read me? Emperor's Light, this is Brother Paulos of Squad Bilius, please respond.'

Silence.

Up ahead he could see tiny points of light, like shimmering diamonds on a pall of velvet. Night had fallen on Scylla IV.

'A curse eternal upon the Tyranid scum.'

Paulos powered towards the opening. The sound of the steel hatch clanging in the wind was music to his ears. He sprinted as fast as his power armour would allow, the starlight gleaming slightly on the dark blue shoulder guards. The shadows to his left and right whistled past, not worrying him any longer. He had found the entrance. He had got through this massacre. He had escaped. His morale lifted as he thought about what an honour it was to be the last survivor, what merits he would heap upon his fallen brothers, what retribution he would deal out to the evil Tyranids. He had nearly reached the hatch.

He was six feet away. Four feet. Two feet.

A scything claw whipped out from the shadows, severing his ankle. He came crashing to the steel-mesh floor, the vox-caster sputtering with his curses. What the hell happened? Blood gushed from his debilitating wound. Gritting his teeth, he struggled around and looked back up the passageway. A dark shadow loomed above him.

'Emperor's Blood!'

It reared up, its black, elongated head slick with slime. Lips pulled back to reveal a row of sickeningly jagged teeth. Four limbs ending in differing talons and claws hovered; ready to spell his doom.

'For the blood of my brothers, die!' Paulos launched himself at the alien beast, arms raised and grasping. Swiftly, it pulled back and the marine slipped on his bloody stump and fell to the deck. A talon whisked out and with one clean stroke, cut off the remainder of Paulos' leg. A howl of pain ripped from his throat as liquid crimson spilled like a miniature stream, soaking the mesh in inky gore. Before he could control his agony, the claw slashed down again, taking off his other leg. Blood spurted like a fountain, spattering the walls.

For a moment the Hormagaunt stood back, watching through cold, alien eyes.

'No! In the name of the God-Emperor of Mankind, die!'

Taking ragged breaths, Paulos dug his fingers into the steel-mesh and dragged himself forward. If he could just get his gauntlets on the filthy xenos…then the creature issued a high-pitched shriek and struck again, slicing off one of the marine's arms. Paulos screamed, his right arm grasping wildly for his foe. His hand formed itself into a gnarled claw as pain pumped through his body.

The Hormagaunt cut down again, taking the convulsing arm out of its socket. This time the Tyranid didn't stop. It screeched again and again as it stabbed down, its scything talons throwing up gouts of blood each time they were pulled from the space marine's body.

For Brother Paulos, it was all over. As a bloody haze gradually covered his vision, something punched with brute force through the back of his helmet. In an instant his vision was blotted out in a flare of blood.

The vox-caster spluttered with static. Due to damage, the sound was extra mechanical and slurred.

'Brother Paulos, do you read? This is Emperor's Light, Brother Paulos…'

A vicious blow shattered the vox and a blood-chilling shriek echoed throughout the night.


	7. Scylla Burning

Chapter 7: Scylla Burning

The dark blue heavens soared, spangled with diamond-bright stars. The huge, red orb of the planet's moon loomed to the east, a gigantic, blooded circle hanging in orbit. In the west an ever so slight flicker of dusk faded as the sun sank behind heavily forested hills.

The Thunderhawk gunship scythed through the atmosphere like a blazing comet. With its engines on fire it zoomed towards the planet's surface, a meteor of adamantium and ceramite. Minutes passed as the craft hurtled downwards. Then, with a rumble of thunder like the chariots of gods, it collided into Scylla IV's reactor zone. A massive explosion rippled outwards in an orb of flame, consuming the entire station in an instant. Colossal pillars of fiery smoke billowed into the sky, like fungoid columns of ash and dust.

Scylla IV was burning.

The warrior watched through scarlet eyepieces, the fires reflected in them with a dancing, inner glow.

She stood atop the sheer cliff, spiky, green blade grass springing up around her boots. Her white, gem-encrusted uniform was spattered with crimson, the vile blood of mon-keigh filth. A spherical, polished gemstone larger than the others adorned her breast, glinting bloodily in the dying light. Thick, red strands fell from her green helmet, then were picked up and tugged back as the wind accelerated.

Her eyepieces flashed like iridescent shards of stained glass as she turned to look east.

'How long must I wait?' Her voice rang softly through the helmet's communicator.

Another figure, clad in strange armour that was decorated with twisting runes, came to stand beside her. His expression was invisible behind his crested helmet as he glanced at his companion momentarily.

'Your eagerness is encouraging, Exarch Naisha.' His robes rustled slightly in the breeze. 'I predict another day, before the mon-keigh arrive to investigate. This world is distant, it will take time for them to gather.'

'Let them come,' Naisha spat. She could feel her blood running through her veins, feel the anger rising, the call to war resounding in her mind. She twirled her elongated powerblade, its edge gleaming with an otherworldly sheen. 'My sword thirsts, and I must satisfy my hunger.'

'Your chance to reave amongst the stars will come. Do not worry. The mon-keigh will die for their insolence.'

'They will die for more than simply being insolent, master Keldred.'

'Is that so?'

'It is. And I will kill them all.'


	8. Ambush

Chapter 8: Ambush

The squad of Space Marines marched through the thick forest. Trees, with enormous trunks and no low branches, surrounded them, towering up to block out the sun. A damp, greyish mist drifted along the forest floor, preventing the marines from seeing further than a few yards. The fog swirled and flowed back and forth, confusing them as to which direction to take. Something flickered between the trees. Was that movement?

'Hold, brothers of the Crimson Fists.'

Brother-Sergeant Caesarius motioned with one hand, halting the column. He stared for two minutes at the mist. Nothing. The silence hung heavily in the air, broken only by the rustle of dead leaves and the quiet whirring of gyros in the marines' suits.

'Do you see anything, brother-sergeant?' Brother Aiden murmured, sweeping his bolter in the general direction of the trees.

The sergeant narrowed his eyes and remained still. He could see nothing but mist amidst tree trunks. He grunted, and was about to wave the squad onwards when a dark figure materialized from the gloom.

The silhouette was tall and elegantly shaped. As the figure emerged into the half-light its white armour gleamed. Aesthetically carved plates shifted slightly around a beautiful, slender body, adorned in places with ovular, polished gems. The largest jewel shone dully on the warrior's chest. One look at the breastplate indicated to Caesarius that this was a female. Between her long legs a red cloth swayed, depicting a heart over a stylised chalice. In one hand she held a glittering sword, its hilt embellished with gemstones. An emerald, red-plumed helmet topped the alien's appearance.

'Beware the Xenos scum, my brothers,' Caesarius snarled. 'It's a female, too. Prepare to kill her!'

Other alien warriors began to materialize from the mist. Their armour and weapons echoed that of their leader. Squad Caesarius was surrounded on all sides.

'The Emperor's fury descends on you, witch!' Aiden grinned, eager to spill some alien blood. The fact that they were females made slaughter all the more appealing.

With a burst of boltgun fire, the ten marines spread out into a circle, planting their boots firmly.

'Purge the filthy xenos scum!' Brother Jareth fired a bright pulse of light from his lascannon. With inhuman speed the alien leader dodged and the blast threw up a spurt of leaves and soil behind her.

Bolter rounds sprayed in a staccato rattle, sending up a weird, translucent shield around the enemy as they advanced. Flickers of lightning illuminated the spell's area of effect as the marines' ammunition was wasted. For a few minutes the chatter of boltgun fire continued.

'Cease fire, brothers, hold your fire!' Caesarius held up his fist and the noise of weapons stopped. Aiming carefully, he sent a single shot rocketing towards the aliens. With a small eruption the bolt detonated against the force shield, causing a fresh wave of lightning to streak across its invisible surface.

'What is this sorcery?' Jareth spat, clearly enraged.

'The vile witchery of the Eldar appals me,' Caesarius said grimly. 'We shall have to close in and deal with the xenos in close.'

'That is no problem,' Aiden hissed, shouldering his bolter and pulling out his wickedly edged combat knife.

'Charge! Destroy them in the name of the Emperor!' Caesarius roared and the marines broke formation.

As Squad Caesarius rushed forwards, Naisha made her attack.

'And now, evil space marines,' she breathed, 'you die.'

She leapt up into the air, raising her blade above her head. As she descended, she made a diagonal cut. The tip of the powersword scored deeply into Brother Aiden's left shoulder, slicing downwards to his right hip. With a grunt of pain, he faltered, long enough for Naisha to lift her sword again and cut another diagonal cut, this time from the right shoulder to left hip. Dancing back, she avoided the corpse as it spilled forwards, its pieces crumbling in a mess of blood and gore.

The other marines yelled their zealous dogma as they thundered towards the Eldar. As their knives slashed wildly, the enemies vanished in a shimmer of blue lightning.

'What in the name of…' Jareth gasped, turning around in time to receive a horizontal cut from Naisha's powerblade. The top half of his torso fell backwards, severed completely. Blood drenched the dry earth. Naisha didn't even look at the body as she twisted to meet the attack of an angered Brother-Sergeant Caesarius.

'Die, foul alien!' His gauntlet clanged from the sword but before his lunging knife could tear its way into Naisha's belly she swept her blade upwards, neatly cutting Caesarius' left arm from its socket. Blood sprayed her armour and she ducked as the howling marine lashed out in pain. Another marine hacked down towards her but she rolled away, concentrating on defence. He threw his knife but she deflected it with a sweep of her sword. The marine was now weaponless, but she was focussing on the sergeant. He had to die first. That was how she wanted to do it. Avoiding the other marines' attacks as they charged in, she leapt nimbly over their heads towards the staggering sergeant. Blood was pumping in gouts from his armour, and a quick slash to his throat was all that was needed to finish him off. As his body fell facedown into the leaves, a further blow took the head from his shoulders.

The seven remaining marines stood, aghast, as their commanding officer was butchered. The alien leaned against a tree, basking in nonchalance. Her powersword was sheathed over her back and her arms were locked behind her head. Her exquisitely carved aspect armour shifted slightly with her body.

'What is this, foul xenos,' Brother Luke demanded. He hefted his flamer and strode warily towards the warrior. Naisha remained motionless, gazing at her enemy through the scarlet eyepieces. She did not reply.

'What are you doing, brother?' Brother Robern snapped. 'Torch her, now!'

'Be cleansed with flame, xenos filth!' Brother Luke pulled the trigger and a burst of flame discharged from the maw of his weapon.

Naisha vaulted above the flames, somersaulting through the air to land on the marine's broad shoulders. Her sword came whistling down and cleaved Luke's head like a pudding. A geyser of blood spurted upwards, spattering Naisha as she rolled through the air, towards the other marines. The flamer continued to burn as it fell to the ground, Luke's twitching gauntlets still clutching the weapon.

Shaken, the remaining space marines fled, powering away through the trees. They had lost four battle brothers to a single alien warrior. It was time to retreat.

'Thunderhawk Blade of Righteousness, do you read me?' Brother Robern bellowed into the vox-caster as he ran. 'Blade of Righteousness, this is acting Brother-Sergeant Robern, come in Blade of Righteousness.'

From her position near the burning corpse of Brother Luke, Exarch Naisha watched, silently. With the Tyranid infestation exterminated, the Eldar were now in a position to wipe out the mon-keigh. She checked her gear, rubbed her waystone with one hand, and then returned her gaze to the fleeing marines. She would give them a head start; that would be more challenging. After several minutes, she would follow their trail.

And then, one by one, they would die.


	9. Rear Guard

Chapter 9: Rear Guard

As Brother Robern continued to yell into the vox, with no response from the Blade of Righteousness, Brother Trinder deliberately fell behind his fellows. He glanced left and right, ensuring his brothers were ahead of him. Here was a chance for him to provide a rear guard. An honourable duty, he told himself, especially against the Eldar scum, who often used devious and cowardly tactics. And maybe he could take her by surprise. She would probably be expecting the marines to group together.

As the squad hurried through the forest, following a rough track, the terrain opened up around them. The trees began to thin and soon gave way to a sparsely vegetated hillside. The sky above was slate grey in the act of changing to an azure blue, and the faint rays of sunlight penetrated through holes in the clouds.

'Regroup, my brothers,' Robern said gruffly. 'Our gunship is not responding. The evil xenos have probably silenced them.'

'A curse upon the foul aliens,' Brother Waynar spat.

'Amen to that,' the acting sergeant nodded his head. 'But we must continue on, and reach our drop point. If anything, we will discover what evil has befallen the Blade.'

Without another word, the squad formed up and marched on up the hill, keeping an eye on the trees.

Suddenly, a muffled scream rang out from below.

Brother Robern twisted his head around and glanced back down towards the forest.

'What in the name of the Emperor?'

'The alien must be following us,' Brother Tomlinnius said nervously. 'We should press on.'

'Where's Brother Trinder?' Brother Waynar's voice came over the vox caster. As the five marines clustered together defensively, they realised one of their number was in fact missing.

'His soul has gone to join the Emperor. We must avenge him.' Robern looked about for somewhere to make a stand. A rocky outcrop provided a suitable rallying point. 'Over here, Squad Caesarius. Here we will wait for the xenos, and kill her with holy fire of the Emperor!'

As Brother Trinder clutched at his cloven chestplate, he raised his bolter and squeezed the trigger. A round of bolts flew off into the tree trunks and he waved the gun wildly, spraying ammunition across a wider area. Blood was leaking from his chest in a steady flow. He turned around as a snapped twig alerted his senses. Like a panicking beast, the marine stared, trying to make out where his opponent was hiding. Something brushed past his backpack, and instinctively he span, releasing another volley of bolter shells. Leaves were shredded and splinters of wood and dust filled the air.

'Come out, you witch! I know you're out there!'

There was a metallic ring and a flash of power and Trinder's left arm was severed. It fell to the ground with a sickly thud, blood pumping like water from a supply pipe. He collapsed to his knees, his bolter wasting more ammunition as he turned the weapon in the direction of where he thought the Eldar would be standing. As the chatter of gunfire blasted the atmosphere, drowning out all other sounds in the vicinity, the space marine failed to notice the tiny prick of a sword blade at the back of his neck. Too late, he stopped firing, just as his right arm was savagely separated from his body. Another gout of blood spurted forth, drenching the forest floor crimson.

The next blow came from right in front of him, snapping his head back. There was a crack as the follow up slammed into his chestplate, knocking him off balance and sending him onto his back.

As Trinder's life essence continued to feed the earth, he stared, confounded up at something he had never seen before. The light above seemed to be shifting, as if there was something there where there shouldn't have been. Where he thought was nothing but air, something moved. It warped the foliage around it slightly, and he knew his time had come.

There was a flicker of energy and a familiar figure faded into existence above him. It was the mask of the Eldar warrior.

Deactivating her cloaking device with the touch of a gemstone, Naisha reached forwards with one hand and grasped the marine's neck. She dragged him upright, and then rammed her sword through his body. A scream ripped itself from Trinder's throat as the blade impaled him. Lifting her boot, she gave the mon-keigh a hefty kick, sending him through the air until he collided with a tree trunk and slid down, leaving a messy trail of blood.

As she strode closer to finish the job, Brother Trinder made an attempt to speak. Instead, he simply coughed up a stream of blood that spattered forth like magma erupting from a volcano.

Placing the edge of her powerblade adjacent to Trinder's neck, she raised the sword high above her head.

'Time for you to die.'

The weapon sliced straight through into the tree behind, leaving a cleanly severed stump spurting blood.

Behind her mask, Naisha smiled.


	10. Tunnel

Chapter 10: Tunnel

Naisha walked slowly town the passage. It was one of the access corridors that linked the abandoned mon-keigh bunker with the outside world.

The Exarch twirled her powerblade and smiled. She could smell them. The rich stench of unwashed humanity filled the dank air. Down here, where there was less oxygen, their vile odour was thick and pungent. They were disgusting, these creatures. Why they enjoyed wallowing in filth and filling their bodies with noxious chemicals she would never know.

The sounds of talking and the click of ammo clips being slammed into weapons echoed from up ahead. She was close; the bunker's control centre was probably just around the corner. She smiled again. Flicking the gemstone, she faded into invisibility and crept closer.

Sergeant Laurel huffed and wheezed. She waddled over to her men, struggling with the weight of the boltgun. Nearly bursting out of her greasy uniform, she resembled a large dumpling with the most hideous face in the galaxy: a face not unlike a pockmarked turnip. A fat cigar was wedged between her rotting teeth, and puffs of black smoke wafted up towards the adamantium ceiling.

'Well, boys, we ready to go out after that Eldar scum?'

The squad of infantrymen stood to attention, casually saluting and straightening their uniforms. Discipline was lax in the ASM: Auxiliary Scylla Marines. One of the soldiers, a heavily browed specimen with long, gangly arms scratched himself ostentatiously, rolled his shoulders back and stood forward.

'We're ready. As much as we'll ever be anyway!' He grinned and a burst of rowdy laughter exploded from the rest of the troopers. They sported a rag-tag variety of weapons: lasguns, las pistols, knives, hatchets and handguns.

'Well said, Private Scot,' Laurel sneered. 'This'll probably be our 'ardest task yet, so listen up team.'

The squad stopped fidgeting with themselves and looked at their leader, expressions of absolute boredom written on their faces.

'I enjoy giving you lot a hard time. Hah, I enjoy giving everyone a hard time. But now I got to push my team a lot harder, 'cos if I don't my neck might be on the line. Got it?'

'When's your neck ever been on the line, Laurel?' Scot laughed, brushing a hand through his short, dark hair. The others joined in, creating an animalistic din.

'Shut up! You just get in line, and you follow my orders, right? I am the sarge, after all.'

'Yeah but since when have you enforced that?' Scot raised his chin arrogantly. 'Look, we're all a team here. You don't have to tell us all this bull.'

'You look 'ere, Private Scot,' Laurel wheezed, chewing straight through her cigar, so that it fell away from her jowls and crumpled to dust on the dirt floor.

'No Laurel, you look' Scot spat, checking his lasgun. 'We've been thinking this for a long time. You don't get results. It's 'bout time for a change of leadership.'

Laurel looked horrified. Her eyes bulged like brown marbles.

'Yea, we've been talking 'bout it, and you don't have it. You don't have the knack.'

'Treason!' Laurel tried to shout, but all that came out was a bit of a cough. 'The immortal emperor…'

'Don't start mentioning that old git,' Scot sneered. He glanced left and right at his comrades. 'Even you don't believe in those lies and falsehoods. The Emperor is nothing. He's dead. We want profit, we want wealth, and you 'ere aint giving it. So stand down, and everythin' will be peachy.' He grinned, nastily.

Laurel nearly exploded. She pointed her boltgun, but the others were already aiming their weapons. She was surrounded on three sides. And their looks weren't friendly.

'Your gun isn't even loaded,' one of the troopers scoffed.

How embarrassing. Laurel's face went a deep shade of red. Holding her podgy arms out wide, she dropped the weapon and fell to her knees.

'Don't kill me, Scot, don't kill me!' She begged, grovelling in the dirt. 'Sergeant Scot, you're Sergeant Scot now, don't…'

Scot looked down, his eyes alight with malice. Slowly, he moved the barrel of his lasgun to Laurel's head. There was a slight ripple in the air, as if something was tearing the fabric of reality. Then Scot's head flew from his shoulders with a spray of blood. Laurel's face was spattered with sticky gore and a scream ripped itself from her fat lips.

But everyone ignored her. They were too busy trying not to get slaughtered.

Laurel screamed and screamed, her eyes flickering left and right, seeing pure horror everywhere she looked. Huge gouts of blood squirted upwards from shorn bodies, like geysers. Arms torn from their sockets flew through the air, leaving trails of crimson droplets. Severed legs skidded across the floor, sending up a mixture of blood and earth. The screams of panicked and dying men filled the air with death. Heads separated from their bodies bounced on the ground in wet patches, coming to rest in pools of filth. All throughout the massacre, something shimmered and shifted through the beams of light. The only indication of intelligence was a pair of glowing red eyepieces.

Suddenly, the last of the screams died with their owners. A tall, armoured alien materialized in front of Laurel as she knelt there, dribbling in terror. Her gun was forgotten as the alien placed its boot seductively on Laurel's shoulder. Muttering to herself as she began to lose her mind, Laurel avoided the Eldar's hellish gaze, praying for a swift death from that gleaming powersword. Such a thing did not come.

Naisha snarled as she shoved the snivelling mon-keigh filth backwards to roll in the dirt. She had not yet encountered a specimen as ugly and wart-encrusted. It was almost inhuman, in its bestial appearance. No matter, it was a mon-keigh, not some unthinking and unintelligent beast. This was a sentient creature that despoiled the Eldar worlds with its stink.

Striding forwards, she grasped the thing and heaved it up against the wall. It was heavy for a mon-keigh, certainly heavier than any other she had fought before. Perhaps it is half mutant, corrupted by the Ruinous Ones. Even more reason to exterminate it, she thought.

As it toppled unsteadily, still babbling in fear, Naisha thrust her blade point first through the mon-keigh's gut. The creature gave a wail of agony as the blade pinned it to the wall. Then it began to squeal, like a pig. The sound grated on Naisha's senses, and she frantically tugged at the sword, willing it to come free. It was stuck fast, so she pulled and wiggled the blade. Each time its edge moved within the mon-keigh, it screamed and shrieked, adding to Naisha's discomfort. This was intolerable.

'Shut up, you bitch,' the Exarch growled, giving another tug on her sword. Feeling it come free, she twisted it upwards further into the mon-keigh's body.

There was a slimy gurgle, and Laurel's entrails spilled out with a splash of scarlet. The powerblade sliced a path up and out of Laurel's chest, spraying the surrounding area in blood. The screaming intensified as the corpse fell to join the ropy guts and Naisha leaned down over Laurel. Raising her fist, her face twisted into a mask of savage hate.

'I said shut your face, volcano breath.'

Naisha's fist slammed into Laurel's head, exploding it with a shower of blood and brain matter.

The Banshee Exarch surveyed the bloody carnage around her. It was a fitting end for the invaders. The bodies would be left here to rot, at least until this world was retaken. Dismissing their deaths from her mind, she cleaned off her armour and sword with a towel taken from the ruins of the mon-keigh locker room. The bunker's corridors were extensive. But she was pretty sure one of the tunnels led to a certain rocky outcrop on the surface. This had been a simple inconvenience.

It was time to get back on track.


End file.
